


Part Attack Dog, Part King

by sharkcar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 79's, Anthropology, Artifacts, Chiefdom (Service), Child Labor, Childhood Heroes, Children of War, Civil Rights, Clone Culture (Star Wars), Clone Wars, Commercialization, Drinking, Drinking Customs, Drinking Songs, Epic Poetry, Fairy Tales, Fatherhood, Fighting Back, Freedom, Growing Up, Home, Kamino, Loyalty, Mandalore, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Mercenaries, Military, Minorities, Morality, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Prison, Raising children, Republic Nutrition Rations, Self-Sacrifice, Slavery, Soldiers, The Twilight (Star Wars), Tipoca City, Veterans, War, Weaponry, warfare, warrior culture, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkcar/pseuds/sharkcar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fenn Rau, the Mandalorian Protector of Concord Dawn arrives on The Liberator as a reluctant guest, he is surprised to be met by a familiar face, his former student from the clone academy on Kamino, Captain Rex. As Rex makes the case to Fenn Rau about why he should join the rebellion, he recalls the Mandalorian origin of his own defiant spirit. Much to Rex's surprise, Rau informs him that while he has been on a self-imposed exile on Seelos, he has become a legend among the warriors of the galaxy, particularly for the story of his undying loyalty. Thinking that no one knew why he'd been in hiding, Rex asks where the story came from, Rau tells him a strange fairy tale told by a young girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part Attack Dog, Part King

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1- A Sunny Day on Kamino  
> Part 2- I Wished I'd Been Sent to the Brig

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you so you are eternal. ---Mandalorian remembrance for the dead.  
  
They brought Fenn Rau, the Protector of Concord Dawn, into the interrogation room on our ship. Admiral Sato had converted an old conference room on the freighter into one for interrogation when the ship was re-fitted into a military vessel for the Rebellion. As such, the room was really not intimidating at all, as interrogation rooms go.  
  
I had been in on real interrogations for the Republic during the Clone Wars. All gray with stark lines and low lighting. They had a menacing quality to them. Hell, I had been trained by my Jedi general to resist Force interrogation in proper rooms on star cruisers. It was somewhat clandestine training, but I had asked him to. I was special forces, so I often had sensitive intelligence. I didn’t want to jeopardize missions if I was captured. General Skywalker had subjected me to some serious mental torture, until I was literally bleeding out my eyes one time. But I never cracked. I kept saying that it still couldn’t be worse than the Republic nutrition rations. I said it so much that I had started to psych him out. People always said I was too stubborn. My Kaminoan creators called it defiance.  
  
General Skywalker and I had been good friends because we understood each other on our most basic level, by respecting each other’s strength. We had arm wrestled one time on the way to Kiros, with him promising to not use the Force. It went on forever. I finally couldn’t bear it anymore, he had long arms so all the leverage. But not using the Force meant that he couldn't anticipate me. I head butted him rather than lose. If I couldn’t win, I would go down fighting. The entire room full of brothers from the 501st and Commander Tano had stood around looking worried as he stumbled backwards bleeding from his nose, swearing in Huttese. He had come up laughing and we had actually hugged each other, but all the while smacking each other on the back. Admiral Yularen had come in to find us with bloody faces while the whole room cheered. The 501st was a really close-knit unit. Its leaders were both just too strong willed to ever know when to give up. Our men were the most loyal in the army. We never gave up on anything, especially each other.  
  
The flooring in Sato’s interrogation room was some kind of tacky white flecked with gold. The orange table and chairs were equally cheap looking. It was hideous. It looked like a kitchen in the slum district of Coruscant. Rooms this ugly could make some people crack, I supposed. I had known a lot of fancy types during the war that would have found bad taste to be torture. Chancellor Palpatine, for example. I overheard him criticizing people’s outfits with his bitch Tarkin, during the Festival of Light on Naboo when I was working guard duty. They went on and on about it, chuckling like a couple of arrogant bastards, making themselves feel superior at the expense of others. I had always really hated those guys. But guys like that underestimated things that didn't look intimidating. Like me, at my age I looked like as little of a threat as I could, I supposed. That was what made me dangerous.  
  
Fenn Rau sat down, his wrists bound behind his back, he seemed somewhat surprised to see my face. Most people thought the Jango Fett clones were extinct by then. At least he knew what he was dealing with. We clones were known for our annihilation of the Jedi. Fenn Rau’s kind, the Mandalorians, had tried to wipe out the Jedi for centuries to no avail and we had done it in a day. He seemed to regard me with a healthy mixture of pride and horror. Well, that is how one should regard technology, I supposed. We clones had started out as just another more efficient weapon, invented not conceived. We were not made through love like other beings, but by contrivance, like machines. Fenn Rau and his like had helped create us. So had the Jedi, and the Republic, and everyone whose taxes kept the Republic afloat, and the banking clans who financed the war, and the Separatists who created a need for us, so really, everyone. And we had brought victory at such a cost that everybody lost, even us clones. We were the ultimate victims of the war, yet they named the war after us as if we’d caused it.  
  
I just sat there not saying anything. I don't talk much. It's not because I don't think much. That's a mistake some people make about us clones.  
  
“Ler’beskar’gam!” Rau called me and kicked at the table. ‘Empty Armor.” It was a derogatory term for Fett clones. We had been traitors to the heroes of the galaxy. Everyone hated us. Everyone had made us, but everyone was ashamed of us.  
  
I sidestepped the table and had him in a headlock and his windpipe on the upturned table’s edge. I got my face close to his and said slowly, “Verd ori’shya beskar’gam.” ‘A warrior is more than his armor.’ Although we clones were of Mandalorian extraction and were trained in their warrior traditions, few clones spoke Mando’a. It was optional at the leadership academy in Tipoca City when I’d gone there. I had studied it. I had studied everything I could when I grew up there in ‘The Killer Factory’. That’s what the Separatists had called my home town in their propaganda.  
  
Rau relaxed with surprise and I let him stand. I sat him back in his chair and put the flimsy table back. He had calmed, “They stopped teaching Mando’a in the academy after the start of the war. We original trainers left to fight in the war or back to our clans.” The training of clones after that was supervised by Jedi general Shaak-Ti and bounty hunters from around the galaxy. Clone training was streamlined as we were shipped out earlier and earlier, in ever increasing numbers. “Which batch are you, Clone? First or second?” We were the early batches. The Kaminoans had taken their time on us, since we were created first. They’d had some time to experiment. Many of us did not survive as they tested our limits. They saw what we could do and then replicated us, packaged us, and commodified us. The bills the Republic paid them were astronomical, but they just kept paying. We early batchers that did survive were the leaders of the Republic’s army.  
  
“Early second round. The first draftee of the second round, actually,” I answered politely and went casually over to a closet in the wall. We had established respect. There was no more need to be menacing. This was actually going better than expected. A genuinely polite discussion by Mandalorian standards.  
  
“What was your unit, commander?” he asked.  
  
“I’m not exactly a commander,” I took out my helmet. It was a phase 2 clone helmet with two blue eyes from a bird of prey painted on the forehead. I slammed it down on the table and asked, “Does this mean anything to you.” I calmly looked him in the eyes.  
  
“Rex Alor’ad?” ‘Captain Rex’.  
  
“You remember me, Cabur.” ‘Protector.’  
  
\--  
  
Mishuk gotal’u meshuroke, pako kyore. Pressure makes gems, ease makes decay. –Mandalorian Proverb.

  


During my years in the clone academy on Kamino, our teachers, like our clone template, were warriors, primarily Mandalorian. Our genetic template, old Jango, was Mandalorian as well. Since Mandalore was ruled at that time by pacifists, the warriors were living in exile as mercenaries, bounty hunters, assassins, terrorists, and all manner of other professions where violence was required. But we clones never knew this, our teachers only told us of the glory days of the past and their longing for a home to fight for. It was inspiring. It encouraged us clones to have goals and heroes to emulate. The trainers would sit around the commissary at night alone, after we cadets were supposed to be in bed. They sat at the tables by candlelight, drinking, telling stories, and singing the old war songs. Some of my batch mates worked in the kitchens. They would let me sneak in sometimes while they cleaned up and I would listen to our trainers through the door. Listening to them always made me so proud to be a soldier.  
  
One of our mentors was Fenn Rau. He trained fighter pilots. Jango himself had asked Rau to come and teach us, I heard. Jango and his son lived in Tipoca City back then, but they never spoke to clones. Yet, I liked to think that, by selecting trainers for us, it meant that Jango cared about us in some way. Even though he kept his distance, he was still our father. He was a good father to one of his sons at least, his boy Boba. I was always jealous of that kid. So with the credential of Fett’s approval, I respected Fenn Rau, as I respected Jango, from afar. I wanted to make them proud.  
  
I didn't know that my wish would come at such a cost. In my seventh year, which with our accelerated aging meant that I was in my early adolescence, I had been in a training mission on the west quadrant ocean. My ship crashed into the water and killed most of my brothers on board. They had been knocked out with the impact and had drowned when the ship sank like a stone. I was able to free the two brothers next to me, Clip and Nebby. Swam them back to Tipoca City strapped to my back with my belt.  
  
I had always liked swimming. That was what I told the Kaminoans when they asked me in the infirmary how I had found the stamina. They were interested because they considered me a product, they wanted to know my capabilities. The Mandalorians just laughed and laughed at that response. They said it was perfect in its gruff modesty. They were giddy with pride over the soldier they had made me. All I was trying to say was that it had been easy because I was doing something that made me happy. They’d all missed it. I realized then that nobody listened to clones.  
  
I was released that night and returned to my bed drawer, bandaged for the scratches on my head, walking stiffly because of tired muscles. My trainers were standing there waiting for me with a lot of my brothers, even my batch mates from the kitchen. One of the trainers had my cadet helmet in his hands. Two triangular shapes were etched into the forehead of the helmet and painted on in red.  
  
“Rex,” another put his hand on my shoulder, “The jaig, the Mandalorian shriek hawk, is the fiercest beast of our skies. The bird will fight to its very last to protect its home and family. The jaig eyes are given by Mandalorian warriors for extreme valor. Today, we give them to you. We are proud that you are part of our tradition.” I took the helmet and bowed my forehead to touch the forehead of the helmet. It was a gesture of respect for fallen warriors on Mandalore. I had lost a lot of brothers that day.  
  
“Thank you, teachers.” I said, feeling humbled. Everyone applauded.  
  
\--  
  
Gar taldin ni jaonyc, gar sa buir, ori’wadaas’la. Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you’ll be. ---Mandalorian Proverb  
  
Three years later, the war started. I had been approved for shipment, but was expecting to be selected as a second by one of the commanders. I had not made commander, being a little too young. I still had six months left of training in the leadership program, but the Republic needed their soldiers and I was conscripted. The only way I would make commander from captain was if my commander died. It wasn’t likely. Usually, upper level guys died last. Also, what kind of captain would I be if I let my commander get killed? So I expected to never be a real clone leader. It had been my dream and my goal since I had been selected for leadership training, so I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. But I vowed to be the best, most loyal subordinate I could be.  
  
Then one day, I was notified that I had been selected for a special forces legion, an extremely prestigious distinction among clones. It meant I was recognized as exceptional, even in leadership training. Being distinctive was important to me. Not only that, I had been tapped to lead it, rank or no rank. I had never felt that my life was so full of potential.  
  
I went to the databanks to collect information on my potential recruits. They were getting in some reports from the Republic holo-net news by then. I had read them casually when I saw the name of my new general, Skywalker. The information mentioned his early elevation to Knight after passing difficult trials. I thought we might have a lot in common.  
  
I had stayed up late that night, getting the commissary key from my brothers in the kitchen. I needed to go through dossiers to decide which of my brothers to recruit. Fenn Rau found me there. I was still young then, barely nine and a half, full adulthood for a clone, but still skinny, sinews and muscle. I was in my clone uniform, the red one with my number. We were not allowed to differentiate our appearances back then, so I looked just like anybody else. The Kaminoans couldn’t tell us apart. I had always figured that we were indistinguishable to most other sentients as well.  
  
“Captain Rex? You’re up a bit past lights out. Disobeying rules isn’t like you,” he had recognized me. It was the first time we'd ever spoken. I was flattered.  
  
“Just catching up on some paperwork. They didn’t give us any training on this aspect of leadership in the academy, unfortunately,” I answered. “I’m afraid the bureaucratic side doesn’t suit me.”  
  
He smiled at the joke.  
  
“Teacher, may I ask you a question?” I was not afraid to speak to him. Participating in discussions was encouraged in my classes, leaders have to be able to think critically, to ask questions and to defend our views.  
  
“Of course, Captain.” He came to the table and set down a drinking cup and a bottle. He poured himself a drink. Then he surprised me by pouring some into the cup I had in front of me. It was some of the moonshine that the trainers made in their quarters. It burned as it went down, but I didn’t wince.  
  
“You’re a leader among your people, sir.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the responsibility,” I asked.  
  
Fenn Rau smiled slightly, “Every damn day.”  
  
I began speaking to him the way we did in our class discussions on tactics and strategy. He was not my teacher for that subject, but that was how I had been trained when speaking with respect. My tone was pretty matter of fact. “I am making decisions now about who to recruit for my unit. I know a lot of them will die. But these are my brothers, many of them are men I helped train since they were small boys.” Those of us in the leadership program from the first and second batch had to teach younger brothers as they came up. It was part of our training, it brought us real experience in command. To the Kaminoans, we were also free labor to help build the Grand Army under deadline. “How do I take them and tell them to fight for me, won’t their deaths will be my fault?”  
  
“Captain, I have trained many of you boys in the academy.” I didn’t like being called a boy. I didn’t feel like one, despite my age. “I am very impressed with your devotion to duty, but I am not sure many of these clone leaders have half of your level of compassion. Do you know what that means? I think this war might suffer for it.”  
  
I nodded, “Yes, thank you, teacher.” That was how we spoke to our teachers. Just, 'Thank you.' We didn't argue. I thought he had given me a compliment. I didn’t actually know what ‘compassion’ meant, but I knew that suffering was bad. I wasn’t very well-read back then. It embarrassed me sometimes when people showed my ignorance. He hadn’t meant to, but no one likes to be made to feel stupid. I resisted my first impulse, which was to kick the table into his chest. We clones were engineered to have quick reflexes and hair triggers. We were taught through conditioning to control it until it is time for a fight, but once the order to attack is given, watch out. I was still pretty tight wound back then. I don't think it was until I started working with the Jedi that I learned to be calmer.  
  
“You do your duty and choose the best ones, teach them the best you can, and trust them to make the right decisions. Always be loyal to them and they will want to fight for you. That's about the best you can do, can't control everything,” he took a sip.  
  
“I’m worried that I won’t always know what to do, they will be depending on me to keep them alive,” I admitted.  
  
“It is not shameful to be afraid…” That wasn't what I'd said. He was aggravating me, he was talking to me like I was a child. I may have been less than ten in years, but I had the brain of a man of forty. I decided to send a message.  
  
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I smiled at him but the smile didn’t reach my eyes. I was doing my best to look predatory. “Combat conditioning.”  
  
He knew what that was. In clone second year we were trained in simulators to be unfazed by battles. We had been made to withstand things like loud noises, disturbing images, physical stresses, pain. They subjected us to these tests day after day to see how far we would control ourselves and still obey orders. They made us virtually unable to go against orders, no matter what was happening to us. By the end of it, we had no survival instinct left that our leaders didn’t grant us. I had just kept taking the pain no matter how high they raised the levels. I would just keep shouting back at them, taunting them. "Is that as high as it goes?" or "Is that the best you can do!" or "I can barely feel that!" I was trying to make the Kaminoans lose their tempers. It never worked, but it made my brothers cheer to see someone standing up to them for doing that to us. There were many times when I passed out. Then I would come out of it seemingly unfazed. It was an act, I confess. I was affected the same as anyone else. Nevertheless, I felt like I had to show strength because I didn’t want the brothers going in after me to be afraid. I was trying to make it look easy. I had also reveled in testing my limits. I found that I could withstand a lot of punishment. The Kaminoans were this close to rejecting me for a psychological defect. But the doctors had decided to approve me eventually. They saw my high pain threshold as an asset for a soldier. It wasn’t the seeming masochism they were worried about, it was the defiance. They wanted conformity. I was conditioned to obey, but I never lost my fierce side. Once I was given orders to fight, I obeyed them viciously. That was how I’d gotten my name, I think, I never asked actually. But I always walked around like I was above everything, my brothers said. But give the word and I would turn into a deadly animal. That was why they’d called me Rex. It was an old word for a leader, but it was also a common name for pet massiffs. That was me, part attack dog, part king.  
  
Fenn Rau looked at me, slightly startled. “Clone joke,” I said politely. Ne shab’rud’ni. ‘Don’t mess with me.’ Thinking about it, we clones were always tight wound then. Establishing dominance was crucial. The atmosphere of Tipoca City was something like a prison in those days. They even gave us prison rations. Still better than Republic rations, though.  
  
“Ah.” He poured another drink, but he eyed me somewhat warily. “Well, Captain, I meant that questioning yourself is wise. Fear is necessary for survival in the moment. Running away can save your life, but it is no way to make good decisions. Acknowledge fear, but have confidence in yourself that you have thought about your decisions carefully and made the right ones.”  
  
“I do,” I answered keeping eye contact.  
  
“I believe you do too. Look at the legacy you leave here in on Kamino? You are respected by the clones you’ve trained, you were good to the bad batchers who served you. You are respected by your teachers. We are all looking forward to hearing news of your exploits in the war.”  
  
We talked for a while after that. I relaxed. The drink helped. He'd actually made me feel better. I was proud then to take on my responsibility, still burdened but stronger somehow. I felt like I had a people on Kamino that I was representing and fighting for. I don't know if he remembered it, but I carried what he said with me. I think that conversation taught me that it's okay to settle down when you're talking to someone. Not every discussion necessarily needed to be stressful. I was surprised how many tense conversations became friendly, just by sharing a drink.  
  
\--  
  
Stand Your Ground- Motto of the Clone Academy, Tipoca City, Kamino  
  
We met again face to face for the first time since Kamino in that laughable interrogation room. The room had character. I was starting to enjoy it in its perverse ugliness. I had developed an affection for things that were ugly, damaged, or broken, the things nobody wanted. Like us clones. “I am happy to see you, Alor’ad. I am sorry for earlier. I thought you were just some mindless clone bounty hunter that they’d hired to torture or execute me. I’ve met other clones acting as thugs. I didn’t know you were still alive. There were stories, but I frankly never believed the empire would let you live.”  
  
We had left each other on unequal terms. He was the teacher then, the free man. I wasn’t even fully formed or fully trained. All my life, I had been property. Now, I met him in that ugly little room where I was dictating the terms. A total victory for the dog. Now diplomacy would begin and I was the ambassador. My friend, the former Queen Amidala, would have laughed if she could have seen it.  
  
“I wish I could say the same. You and your men shot at our fighters, killed our pilots, injured our squadron leader. We were just coming to speak with you peacefully. And you’re serving the Empire! How could you bow and scrape to them and still call yourselves Mandalorian?” I leaned on the table in front of him and made my ‘don’t mess with me’ face.  
  
“I was protecting my people, you should understand that, Alor’ad. We barely have a home left, in case you didn’t know. I have to keep them together, keep them safe. The Empire leaves us alone, even pays us as mercenaries to keep this sector secure from the Rebellion. It’s not freedom, but it’s hardly bowing and scraping. We defeated your pathetic squad, in case you didn’t notice.”  
  
Fenn Rau thought that he could out-do me in eloquence. Being well-spoken was considered an important virtue of leadership on old Mandalore. Being able to tell the story of one's people and struggles was important for a leader. I had rehearsed. I didn't expect to be able to deliver Dha Werda Verda, but I had something. “I do not want to hear your excuses! Do you know what the Republic, and then the Empire did to my people? During the war, our dead were left to rot on every habitable planet and moon in the galaxy, or they were left frozen in space to drift like debris. Even when we were collected, they used to load our dead by the truckload into trash incinerators. After Umbara, the skies above the industrial district on Coruscant were black for days. They used us to fight their war, afterwards, they made us murderers. Then they used us to fertilize their fields, like manure. Even those of us who were never disloyal have been left to die in disgrace,” I tapped the scar on my head where I had removed my control chip. “Jorcu ni nu copaani kyr’aur ner vod.” ‘For I would not willingly shed my brother’s blood.’ I’d said it in Mandalorian. Rau still looked shocked that I could speak it as well as I did. He shouldn’t have been, I had been raised listening to their battle songs, after all. A lot of people assumed we clones were stupid like droids. But we were actually engineered as quick learners. My brother Cody was fluent in Mando'a. General Kenobi spoke it like a native, they practiced all the time. I’d had a lot of years on Seelos to study it. I read all the time there. To my surprise, I was really holding my own as a Mandalorian warrior. “I do not want you as an enemy, teacher. So I am asking you, nicely this time, to join the Rebellion. I won’t ask nicely again.”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” Rau sighed.  
  
“We all have a choice. What I can do is give you good reasons to choose my side,” I did not look angry any more. This was what passed for friendly discourse between Mandalorians. I undid his cuffs. Ezra brought us in a bottle and some cups. The bottle contained the moonshine I was making in my quarters. I hadn’t known what else to do with all the space in there, so I built a still like my teachers in the academy had. My stuff was terrible, but it got the job done. “Thank you, Ezra.”  
  
“When do I get to try some?”  
  
“Ezra, you’re barely an adolescent. When I was at your development level, I never drank.” False. I had. Just once, but it was enough to make me sick the next day. Fenn Rau no doubt remembered that I had thrown up on a trainer's shoes. He smiled. The liquor with Fenn Rau had only been my second time drinking. “Good-bye, Ezra,” I nagged. He left.  
  
“Why do you think the Rebellion can win?” he raised his glass and let me fill it. He was now talking to me like an equal.  
  
I poured myself one as well, “The Empire doesn’t offer anything anyone really wants.” I smirked. “K’oyacyi.” ‘Cheers’, but it also meant ‘Stay alive.’  
  
He raised his glass, "K'oyacyi. They say that they offer stability, security.”  
  
“That is a false assertion. Total stability and security is impossible without killing everybody who poses a threat. And all that’s left then is tyranny. Tyranny doesn’t inspire loyalty, just obedience brought from fear. The fearful make bad soldiers. Do you know how many imperial shuttles we’ve stolen just this week? The crews just surrender the damned things.” I laughed.  
  
"I see your point. So you think your side will have popular support?"  
  
“The Empire makes people so afraid to defy them that people accept giving up their freedoms just to avoid being crushed. But you can only take so much from people before we don’t have anything left to lose. You can only cause so much pain before we must fight back. That’s when we are dangerous. You told me once that loyalty will make people want to fight for you. The Empire tells people to be weak instead of proud of themselves. It teaches people to look out only for themselves instead of taking care of each other, and to accept less instead of dreaming of more. What kind of an army does that make? No loyalty, no honor, no one to admire, nothing to aspire to. These things are all against our better natures. No one wants to see themselves that way. Nobody can be happy like that. Our rebellion will only grow. The Empire’s days are numbered. We are only getting stronger.”  
  
“Your rebellion has certainly gotten the Empire’s attention. But the Empire has the strength and resources. Why should I commit my men and resources to you? What makes you think you can defeat the Empire? How is it worth the risk?”  
  
"Because destroying the Empire will make everyone's lives better."  
  
“Idealism. And why should I have faith in your rebellion, when I have no personal stake in it?”  
  
“We can help you with resources, help you rebuild your world, keep your enemies away. You can trust me, Protector. You know who I am. I’m asking you to have faith in me, teacher. Have faith in me because you have confidence that you Mandalorians taught me to make the right decisions. I am sure I am right about this.” I was holding my own as a diplomat, too. What a strange day.  
  
\--  
  
Mutual respect makes friends even of adversaries. ---General Obi-Wan Kenobi  
  
I don’t know if I really convinced him to join us or if he was merely going along with us for now. But we reached terms and became genuine friends.  
  
“Do you know anything about your reputation among the Mandalorians, Captain?” Fenn Rau asked when I poured our evening drink one night. We drank together often while he was our reluctant prisoner. Told old stories. Sang the old songs. We looked crazy. Me wearing pieces of old clone armor. Him in that hooded flight suit. Like a couple of old brigands in a cantina.  
  
“Well, no.” I scratched the back of my head. I had been hiding for the past fifteen years or so. I was ashamed to admit it. I had been on Seelos, trying to keep safe the last two of my brothers I could find. I had deserted the Grand Army of the Republic when I realized that the Jedi purge could come. I was not supposed to know about it and this knowledge was dangerous. I refused to kill my brothers or the Jedi, so I ran. My life had already come down around my ears, so I had nothing to lose. Clones were not welcome in most parts of the galaxy after the war. Most people believed that we were traitors who had turned on their heroes. We were nearly eradicated after that because no one wanted us. I felt some guilt about going into hiding. I felt guilty that I had lived, when all my friends and family had died. That was why I had departed Seelos to join the Rebellion when they came calling. I felt that I had a responsibility to restore the clone legacy and honor their memory because I was alive and I still could.  
  
“What would you say if I told you that many young Mandalorian recruits in our exiled clans have heard the story of the only clone ever to earn jaig eyes. As you know, we Mandalorians, including former clone trainers like myself, use stories of great warriors, even our enemies, when we instruct the young in our ways. We tell stories about you, Rex. Your war record is becoming legendary,” he took a drink.  
  
“What?” the attention was making me somewhat embarrassed. “That’s ridiculous.”  
  
“We tell the stories of your exploits, on Kamino, on Teth, on Geonosis, on Umbara, at the Citadel, on Kadavo. There are so many! We use your deeds as examples to instill Mandalorian virtues.”  
  
I was now thoroughly embarrassed. “I thought we clones were reviled by everyone.”  
  
“Not everyone. Those of us who knew you were proud to call you Mandalorian and count you among us.”  
  
“But do they think I killed the Jedi?” I was worried. Mandalorians didn’t like the Jedi, I didn’t want to be a hero for the wrong reason.  
  
“No, we know the rest of the story.”  
  
“How?” I thought everyone who knew the story was dead or on Seelos.  
  
“That information was distributed after the end of the war. In the early days of the Empire, someone was publishing messages about Captain Rex, the clone who refused to be disloyal, who defied the Empire. I have actually met some clones who have the same scar who told the same tale. We former clone trainers believed it. The story has even taken on of a life of its own in the galaxy. Why, there was even a fairy tale that a little girl told us after we rescued her from an imperial labor camp on Tibrin. She used to draw pictures of a clone trooper with blue jaig eyes.”  
  
I chuckled. “Funny.” It made me feel sentimental. I was getting soft in my old age. “What is the girl doing now?”  
  
“She is one of our young recruits. She still insists that part of her descent comes from you. That is, she claims you as a kind of hero whose legacy she fights for. An inspirational mascot, if you will. That is a clone custom, is it not, to take a mascot and emblazon them on the armor or wear good luck charms with an image of them?”  
  
“It is,” I still had mine. “But I don't actually have a personal legacy. I don’t have anyone except my brothers and we can’t reproduce,” my life was anything but a fairy tale.  
  
He waved his cup. “We just don’t have the heart to correct her. Children need heroes to believe in.”  
  
I shook my head. My face had grown hot. I had wanted a family, back before the end of the war, when I still dared to have hopes for myself. It seemed like a cruel joke that a little girl living in a horrible place had made me into a hero in her mind. “Where did she come from?” my heart was beating in my ears. How did this little girl know who I was, I wondered.  
  
“I believe she said that her parents were from Coruscant.”  
  
I paused. “And, how does she say she’s connected to me?”  
  
“The daughter of your girlfriend, or so she purports,” Fenn Rau still sounded incredulous,  
  
I didn’t hear anything much he said after that.  
  
\--  
  
Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome. We are one when together, we are one when parted.---Mandalorian marriage vows  
  
My relationship with my girlfriend, Lina, was encouraged by my Jedi general. She was a friend of his since they were kids on Coruscant. She lived in the neighborhood of the Jedi temple where her mother owned a restaurant. He liked to eat there. He said she was always choosing to go out with men who weren’t any good for her. It made him sad, he said, he liked her and didn’t want her to be lonely. He had a kind of hero complex, wanted to save everybody.  
  
Clones were forbidden from relationships according to military codes of conduct, so I ignored his troublemaking at first. I had thought he was joking. I realized later that he was having a clandestine affair himself. With a beautiful former queen, no less. He had always had a flair for the dramatic. Maybe he wanted a partner in crime, I thought. I continued to ignore his attempts at matchmaking.  
  
But I realized after getting to know her that the general’s girlfriend was a wonderful person. He loved her for real, and I’m sure she loved him too. They seemed to make each other happy. They were equally reckless and equally kind. They both talked about how they wanted me and my brothers to have the same freedoms as any citizen of the Republic, including the right to have a family. Seeing their partnership had made me decide that I wanted to try to have a little happiness for myself. I thought I deserved that. So I relented and I allowed myself one amazing night with a girl who made me feel like I was not just some expendable, identical clone, but a man.  
  
The next time I was on Coruscant was before the Citadel mission. The mission was a beast, something that had never been done before, a break out from the toughest prison in the galaxy. Every one of us clones on that mission was convinced we would not be coming back. But we respected our Jedi leaders and loyally pledged to devote ourselves to our duty. I lost some of my best brothers there.  
  
Before the mission began, I took my week of leave time and stayed with Lina. I wanted my last week alive to be a good one. It was, it was the week I fell in love. On the mission, all of us, Jedi and clone, were at our best as warriors. It was some of the fiercest fighting of the war. I felt invincible. After I survived the mission, I wanted to get back to Lina, but I was told that I wouldn’t be given leave time for a while. Too many uses in the galaxy for a weapon of my caliber. I waited a year. By the time I came back to Coruscant, Lina was already married with a baby on the way. I had to let her go. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  
  
\--  
  
Ni kar’tayi gai sa’ad. I know your name as my child. ---Mandalorian Adoption Vow  
  
I arrived on Concord Dawn in one of the stolen imperial shuttles. Seriously, the Rebellion had a small fleet of them by then. I had a favorite one. It was a real junker, but it had personality. It even smelled bad. I’d named it ‘Son of the Twilight’ after General Skywalker’s rusty old piece of space garbage. Ahsoka had laughed at that for days. I loved making her laugh, she did so rarely then.  
  
Rau was still pretending to be loyal to the Empire while he helped us behind their backs. He didn’t want anything to look out of place so I wore an imperial officers’ uniform. I felt like some kind of sissy navy boy. But you couldn’t get me to put on that junk Stormtrooper armor. Fenn Rau accompanied me down the ramp and led me to his quarters.  
  
He pushed the door panel and it slid open. Behind the door stood a young woman, a teenager really. She wore a uniform with Mandalorian armor. Her hair was bound close to her head in braids. I recognized her instantly, although we had never met. Lina had had such pretty eyes, her daughter had the same ones. Her right shoulder armor was painted white and etched with a pair of blue jaig eyes and my number, 7567. She held a helmet on the table emblazoned with the symbol for the Protectors of Concord Dawn. She was nervous, her hands were shaking. I took off my hat and held it in my hand.  
  
Her eyebrows knotted as she said to me “Ba’vodu.” ‘Uncle’. I don’t know why. Like I said, we’d never met, “I’m Alis Grady.”  
  
I scratched the back of my head. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I…knew your mother.” And that is all I'm going to tell you about it, young lady. I am a gentleman.  
  
Just like that, she hugged me. A total stranger. Just like that, she was family to me. I hugged her back.  
  
\--  
  
Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la. Not gone, merely marching far away. ---Mandalorian phrase for the departed.  
  
Fenn Rau had explained Alis’ story on the way to Concord Dawn.  
  
Alis had come to them as a child telling her fairy tale about her mother and ‘Uncle Rex’ a clone trooper with the jaig eye helmet. Rau had known instantly to whom she was referring, but he thought she might be just telling a story she’d heard somewhere. She said that her mother and I had been in love, said she had some scrappy letters her mother had written. But they could just have been fiction, for all anybody knew. Rau said that he personally had believed the part about be falling in love could be true. He had known me to have a great deal of loyalty, but also compassion. Alis said in her story that I had chosen my duty over her mother, but reluctantly. Everyone who knew me thought that part was true.  
  
Except it wasn’t the truth. I had never been given a choice. I was property of the Republic military. I didn’t choose to leave her mother. I accepted that I’d lost her.  
  
General Skywalker had formally asked the army to discharge me some time after the Citadel. He did it without my knowledge. He thought he was helping me. It was a bold move on his part. He always thought he could do anything. Usually, he pulled off even his most reckless plans. This time, though, it went wrong. The army ordered an investigation of me once the discharge request had been made. They found it problematic because we clones were supposed to be unquestioningly obedient. They wanted our obedience, but the more the war went on, the more independent we clones had become. This had been a step too far. Tarkin’s secret police had come and threatened Lina with prison for breaking the law. I had seen a copy of the actual report later. The charge had been improper use of military property. Seriously, that’s what they called it. As if I was some kind of tank or walker. Because my proper use was to kill for the Republic. So blowing off heads on a battlefield was okay, but loving a girl was a crime. They accused her of indecency, they threatened to out her in public like it was perverse to love me. Like I wasn’t even human. They broke her windows, wrecked some things. She was so scared that she latched on to the next guy who came along and she got pregnant, then married. They didn’t bother her for a while. I never knew all that had happened until I found the letter Lina left in my pack before I ran. When I’d deserted, General Skywalker had asked the secret police to find me. Unbeknownst to him, these spies hunted ruthlessly. I was chased for a while, stayed on the run. General Skywalker didn’t ever hear about the horrible things the secret police did in his name looking for me. I supposed I knew why Lina had told Alis another version. Hers was nicer.  
  
Alis’ story was a popular example used among Concord Dawn recruits to teach loyalty. It had spread among other clans. Alis said that even after her mother and I parted, we had still cared for one another. When I had realized that the clones were going to be used to wipe out the Jedi, I had asked Lina to help me escape, storing equipment for removing my control chip. I offered to take her family to safety and protect them, even Alis’ dad. Lina said she couldn’t leave, but she had helped me run, so that I was not on Coruscant when the Jedi purge happened. She gave me the power to avoid being disloyal to both my people and the Jedi. When evil was closing in the walls around me, Lina had set me free out of her loyalty to me. That was all true.  
  
\--  
  
Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Family is more than blood.---Mandalorian Proverb  
  
Alis sat down, so I did too. I had brought a bottle of moonshine, but she was too young to drink.  
  
“Sorry, I’m nervous, I guess,” I said. “Do you mind, I could really use a drink,” I admitted. I had learned that it was better with ladies to just treat them with honesty and respect.  
  
“Not at all,” she smiled. She had her mother’s smile. My heart melted a bit.  
  
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you. The last time I saw you, you were still incubating,” I winced internally. I remembered that people who had normal births called it something else. I was sure I sounded like an idiot. We clones had a tendency to say stupid things when nervous, especially around women.  
  
Fenn Rau broke the awkward tension when he came back from the kitchen and set a cup of caf down in front of Alis. Her mother drank that, I remembered. Rau poured some liquor himself.  
  
“So Alis has been telling the truth all this time,” Rau asked me.  
  
“Yes. Her mother and I were in love,” I had never admitted that to another person. “The last time I saw her, she saved my life. Tell me,” I took a breath, “What happened to her?”  
  
“Alis, please tell Captain Rex about how you ended up with us,” Rau said kindly.  
  
Alis took a deep breath and composed herself. She was doing better than I was. She was stronger than I had realized. I admit, teenage girls were still a mystery to me. Well, I had only really ever known one and she was surprisingly complicated, even for a Jedi. I don’t know how General Skywalker raised her for the time he did. Boys I got. Boys were easier.  
  
“Even before the end of the war, my mom was sorry about not fighting back. I still have pieces of the letters she wrote to you about it, but never sent, she was telling you about how bad Coruscant was getting. More and more places on Coruscant weren’t friendly to clones, wouldn’t serve them food or drink, even allow them in. She hung a sign at the restaurant telling clones that it was a safe place for them. I remember them coming in, even after the war when they were in the Stormtrooper corps. They were nice guys. They gave me shoulder rides and played ball with me in the street out front. They used to joke with mom. In her letters, mom said she remembered lots of clone jokes you'd told her. She even put Republic food rations on the menu as a joke, calling it ‘Clone Chow.’”  
  
I chuckled. Lina always had a great sense of humor.  
  
“She wrote that she was cited by the police for being subversive for that one. They confiscated her menus and charged her a fine. The clones took up a collection and paid it for her. She gave them all free lunch. Then she started distributing handbills about how the Republic was treating the clones. She realized that most people didn't know. She would sometimes bring Clone Chow out when a non-clone came into the restaurant. She would offer them free lunch if they could eat one without spitting it out. I remember the clones loved to watch that. They always cracked up.  
  
“After you left, my mother secretly distributed your story, the one you told her, that the clones had these things put in their brains that were dangerous. She still had the equipment you’d used and she convinced some clones to undergo the procedure. The younger guys, especially. They all wanted to be like you. In one letter she included a drawing of the insignia they were using, a modified Clone Academy symbol with a line above the right temple etched on the helmet." The emblem of the Clone Academy was a phase helmet with the motto below it. "After the end of the war, when the purge happened, it proved her story was true. Some clones didn’t obey the order. I don’t know how many of them were killed for that, but some survived I think. Mom helped some of them get off world. After a few years, the secret police came for my parents. I guess they found out what Mom had done. They burned the restaurant and took my parents to an imperial prison. I was conscripted for labor.”  
  
“How old were you?” I asked.  
  
“Five. I was sent to work in a sweatshop on Tibrin, making uniforms for the military.” I squirmed a bit in my clothes when she said that. “The Protectors raided the factory and rescued us kids.”  
  
“You see, Rex, we have not bowed and scraped to the Empire without stabbing them in the back from time to time,” Fenn Rau sipped. “We had heard that children from Mandalore had been sent to that factory after the siege. I didn't care what clan they had been from, I considered them our children. I knew what the Empire was doing was wrong. So we fought back against them when we could. We freed the other children too and have adopted them into our House, like Alis. Do you think we deserve to call ourselves Mandalorians now?” I was so proud. My girl had made full Mandalorian warrior.  
  
“Yes, Fenn. I am grateful to you,” I raised my cup. Just a clone cup from my old utility belt. We’d all had them. But mine had seen some action over the years, it was dented and scraped, had weird stains. It had a history.  
  
Alis continued, “I’ve been here ever since. I was raised in a village on the other side of the planet by the Mandalorian colonists, I joined The Protectors when I was old enough. I didn’t have a house or illustrious ancestors when I started training, but I had you. Mom had always talked about you, the other clones too. They called you my ‘Uncle Rex.’ When we were expecting her arrest any day, Mom always said that I should go and find my Uncle Rex, that he would protect me. We were being watched, so we couldn’t leave. She was telling me that as a way of trying to get me to safety. She meant that any clones left would take care of me because they probably knew her or knew of her, so if I saw someone with a clone face, I should run to them and they would help me. I dreamed about you rescuing me when I was in the sweatshop. When Concord Dawn came, I saw their Mandalorian helmets and thought they were clones. I ran to them. Later, when I told the other recruits here that my mother had actually known you, I’m not sure they believed me.” She smiled and sipped from her cup. My heart melted again. She even held a caf cup like her mother.  
  
“Do you have any idea what prison your parents were sent to?” I hoped against hope.  
  
“I never knew, Uncle,” she shook her head slowly, tears standing in her eyes. “I’m surprised I remember as much as I do, actually. I don't have those letters any more.”  
  
I took out my pistols and laid them crossed on the table. It was a solemn vow in Mandalore to lay one’s weapons in front of another warrior. It was a pledge of loyalty, “Alis, I promise, I will find your family for you or die trying.”  
  
“I don’t want a life debt, Uncle,” she put her palms up.  
  
“I can’t pledge my life to you Alis,” I smiled, half joking. “My life already belongs to the one who saved it. I have to find her to repay that debt, too.” Fenn Rau swore under his breath in Mando’a. It meant that he was impressed. It was certainly more eloquent than, ‘I always liked swimming.’  
  
\--  
  
Even destruction can be beautiful, but then who is left to appreciate the beauty? ---Jedi proverb.  
  
That night, Fenn Rau and I took our drinks outside and lit a fire. The skies above Concord Dawn were spectacular. All that destruction debris from the wars was lighting up brightly.  
  
“You know, when I was younger, my most private wish was to be a father. Now, I feel all the joy that brings. I have Alis, though her I have a legacy in this galaxy. She is everything I could have wanted, she’s a warrior, she honors my people, I know she will accomplish great things. I only have one problem.”  
  
“Rex, what could that possibly be?”  
  
“I don’t know anything about raising a girl,” I had only a father and brothers after all.  
  
“Ke barjurir gar’ade, jagc’ade kot’la a dalc’ade kotla’shya.” He raised his cup to me. ‘Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger.’ I clinked his cup with mine.


End file.
